


Resources

by telperion_15



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-25
Updated: 2011-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-20 17:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik has Charles exactly where he wants him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resources

Erik has Charles exactly where he wants him, and there’s not a damn thing Charles can do about it.

Well, actually, there are several things he can do about it. He could weave his way into Erik’s mind and subtly suggest that Erik stop. He could blast his way in and _force_ Erik to stop. He could even simply say “Stop” and Erik would, immediately (because contrary to previous evidence he does possess _some_ self-control).

But Charles won’t do any of those things. He _chooses_ not to. Because Charles _wants_ just as much as Erik does.

And besides, this is all Charles’ fault really. He’s the one who taught Erik to truly _feel_ his powers. And it turns out that between rage and serenity is an arousal so deep that they are both powerless in the face of it.

Charles’ cufflinks are tiny, but they are enough. Enough to keep Charles pinned to the wall, like a butterfly pinned to a piece of card. Except that Charles is alive. And far more beautiful.

Charles’ shirt buttons are, sadly, _not_ made of metal, although Erik perhaps reconsiders the ‘sadly’ part of that as he starts to undo them with his fingers, close but obviously not close enough for Charles, who refuses to strain towards him but who clearly wants to.

Erik merely smirks at him until the last button pops open and Charles’ shirt parts down the middle. He can’t push it off Charles’ shoulders, not if he wants to keep Charles right where he is, so he lets it hang instead, the garment gaping open in a slightly obscene manner.

Erik wonders if actually they might have passed obscene a while ago.

He gives Charles a heated look before dropping to his knees so he can pull off the shoes and socks that he can’t manipulate, and then turns his attention to Charles’ pants.

Charles tries valiantly to transform his expression of slack-jawed arousal into a wryly amused grin as the zipper on his pants starts to descend, apparently of its own accord.

Needless to say, he fails completely.

Erik lets gravity aid him in pooling Charles’ pants around his ankles, and then gives Charles’ shorts (no metal there) a helping hand to join them. Charles steps out of them quickly, and Erik shoves them away.

He wonders if Charles is actually projecting his disappointment as he stands again, or if Erik has finally become as adept at reading Charles as Charles is at reading him, except _without_ telepathy.

He had briefly considered it – remaining on his knees and taking Charles in his mouth, listening to Charles’ moans as he looks down at Erik, watching. But that’s not his goal for today, so he files the idea away for another time.

Instead he considers the picture before him. Charles Xavier, naked except for his shirt, eyes blown black, skin flushed, cock standing to attention.

Oh yes, obscene is quite some distance behind them now.

Erik frowns a little. A minor adjustment is called for, he decides.

Slowly, Charles’ hands start to move, from their positions by his hips, upwards until they meet above his head, fingers brushing each other.

 _Much_ better.

Erik crowds close to Charles suddenly, closing his hands around Charles wrists, gripping them hard enough that they can both pretend he isn’t holding them in place by some other means.

Charles gasps at the sudden contact, the sound almost lost as Erik kisses him, hard and almost vicious, his teeth sinking into Charles’ bottom lip.

He swears he can feel Charles’ skin everywhere the other man is pressed up again him, despite the fact that Erik is still fully clothed. He wonders if the odd roaring sound in his head is his arousal or Charles’.

 _“Erik.”_

Erik thinks the word is echoing directly inside his brain until Charles says it again against his lips, speaking for the first time since this encounter started. He is almost pleading, and has given up any idea of not trying to strain against his captivity as he tries to get closer, tries to rut against Erik.

This is the Charles Xavier only Erik gets to see. He thinks everyone else would find it quite shocking.

He pushes his hand down to Charles’ cock, brushes his knuckles along the length before fondling his balls lightly. Charles keens, the sound loud in the quiet of the room.

 _Erik._

This time the plea _is_ inside his head, and it is followed by an image of Charles with his legs wrapped around Erik’s waist as Erik thrusts up into him, Charles’ hands still pinned above his head even though Erik’s own are now on Charles’ hips.

The image is so like what Erik has planned that he narrows his eyes and sends a small arrow of suspicion towards Charles.

He feels Charles’ amusement. _Great minds think alike, my friend_ , comes the response, the thought remarkably clear considering that a moment previously Charles had appeared to be almost completely incoherent.

Erik determines to increase his efforts.

He removes his hands from Charles’ wrists. Charles’ hands do not drop.

Erik uses a hurried combination of fingers and powers to undo his pants and push them and his underwear just far enough out of the way. He is just as hard as Charles, although apparently more successful at ignoring it.

He reaches out his left hand to catch the small bottle of lubricant that he calls from the table (metal cap, _so_ useful) at the same time as his right hand curls around the back of Charles’ left thigh and lifts.

Charles moves eagerly, hooking his leg over Erik’s hip and then lifting his other leg to do the same before Erik has a chance to assist him.

His weight settles on Erik, and although Charles is smaller and slighter than him, Erik spares a brief second to strengthen his hold on Charles’s cufflinks, taking some of strain off.

“Fucking hell, Charles,” he breathes, and Charles grins at him impishly until one of Erik’s hands slides under his thigh again and Erik’s fingers, now slick, brush against him intimately.

The grin immediately dissolves into an ‘o’ of arousal as Charles’ eyes droop shut. Erik doesn’t fight the instinct to kiss those parted lips as he presses two fingers into Charles’ body, feeling a keen rush of possessive pleasure when he feels how easily Charles opens up to him.

Erik decides right then that _no one_ else will get to see this side of Charles Xavier. _Ever._

Charles squirms as Erik pulls his fingers free, and then grunts as Erik exerts his will, dragging Charles upwards against the wall so he can push closer, locking them even tighter together.

There’s a long moment where Erik stares _up_ into Charles’ eyes, then he lets Charles drop again, guiding him slowly on to his cock.

All the air leaves Charles’ body in a rush as he stretches around Erik, and Erik himself has to take a long, shaky breath in as he pulls Charles down.

 _Erik, please…_

Erik wonders whether anyone else has ever heard Charles beg, and then wonders whether he should try and make him do it again. Charles does beg so well.

But, he realises, right now he’s not capable of the self-control it would require to wait long enough. It’s taking everything he has to keep Charles at his mercy – he can’t afford to stretch the point too much.

So instead he gives Charles what he wants, pulling the other man down the final few centimetres even as he pushes up, in slow, measured strokes.

He loves to watch Charles face as he fucks him. Gone is the sensible, serious professor with apparently the weight of the world on his shoulders, to be replaced by an altogether different creature. A creature with flushed skin and swollen lips, who moans and writhes and _wants_.

Erik can feel his control slipping, in a way that only this – that only Charles – can make it do. He tries to keep some small amount of focus on keeping Charles’s arms above his head.

And apparently it’s too _much_ focus. Apparently Charles isn’t getting what he wants (although Erik was under the impression that was the idea of this game). The same image flashes into Erik’s brain – them as they are now, except that Erik isn’t holding back, isn’t focusing on anything apart from fucking up into Charles as hard as he can.

Charles seems to be enjoying it.

Erik’s control splinters, and suddenly Charles’ arms drop, clutching at Erik’s shoulders, pulling him into a kiss that is all teeth and ferocity.

 _Erik!_

Erik gives into the inevitable, and thrusts up with enough force to make Charles’ head thud against the wall. Then he does it again and again and again until Charles is almost stunned into silence.

His brain cannot be quieted though, and Erik’s mind is awash with images of every time they’ve ever been together, and some times they haven’t, but which he thinks might be happening very soon.

He cannot spare a hand for Charles’ cock, and it seems that Charles won’t spare one himself, more concerned with keeping Erik close, winding them together. But it also seems that Charles doesn’t need one, as with a choked off noise that sounds _much_ louder in Erik’s head he comes, a flood of warmth between them

Erik only needs a very few more thrusts into Charles’ shuddering, clenching body before he is following Charles over the edge, with a hiss of pleasure against the skin of Charles’ jaw.

And then there is silence, broken only by panting breaths, in which they stay locked together, neither willing to move just yet.

Finally, however, Erik shifts the tiniest bit, enough that he slips from Charles, drawing a groan of disappointment from the other man.

Erik smiles a satisfied smile.

 _You are a wanton little slut sometimes, Charles Xavier_ , he thinks.

 _Says the man who’s just had his wicked way with me almost entirely due to the sheer force of his magnetic personality._

The lame pun draws a snort from Erik, and an answering laugh from Charles, until it is cut short by Erik’s fingers drifting back under him to tease at certain abused portions of his anatomy.

 _You loved every minute of it_ , Erik tells him.

Charles does not deny it.


End file.
